


Tomorrow Came

by SkyFireForever



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, Angst, Asexual Enjolras, Dreams and Nightmares, Enjolras Is Bad At Feelings, F/F, F/M, Flashbacks, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Genderfluid Jean Prouvaire, M/M, Multi, Post-Barricade, Reincarnation, Slow Burn, Trans Enjolras
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-23
Updated: 2018-02-07
Packaged: 2019-03-08 15:18:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13460976
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SkyFireForever/pseuds/SkyFireForever
Summary: Enjolras knows it’s the end of the line when his friends have all been killed and he alone remains, standing defiant against the National Guard. He was prepared to die for his friends and countrymen. Of course, he was joined by Grantaire in his last moments, holding his hand as they were both shot. Enjolras knew he was dead.That was, until he wakes up in a bed that is not his, in a room that is not his, and in a time period that is definitely not his. His old friends are alive and well, but Enjolras seems to be the only one who remembers their failed revolution.Or: Enjolras is shot at the barricades on that day in 1832, but wakes up in the future with no memories of a life there.





	1. No Beat, No Drums

**Author's Note:**

> This is actually a rewrite of my fic "A New Beginning", but it's written much better and I'm very proud of this one. Enjoy!

Enjolras couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t think past the screaming in his ears and the sound of gunfire, the sounds of his friends being slaughtered around him while he could do nothing. He didn’t know who was left, if anyone. He had watched most of his friends, most of Les Amis, the brave soldiers, the brave _boys_ who had stood up to fight for their country, die at his feet. Combeferre’s face was seared into his mind, his cold, empty eyes staring up, unseeing at the sky above him. He could still hear Courfeyrac’s cries as he held Combeferre to him until the Guard silenced him. He could still imagine Prouvaire’s fear as he stood up, cried out for the future before the soldiers stripped any hope of that future from him. Enjolras’ heart was pounding, his ears were ringing, he couldn’t _think_. Was he the only one left? Has everyone else given their lives? Enjolras ran, his sweat causing his hair to stick to his face and neck, unshed tears hiding behind his eyes. He had led his friends to their deaths. All of them. They were dead and for what? For a future that would never come.

Enjolras was cornered, surrounded at all sides by the National Guard. He panted, facing the wall, chest rising and falling painfully with each breath. This was it, he knew it. There was nowhere he could go, nowhere he could turn. He brought himself to this. Grantaire had always been right, their revolution was doomed from the start. The leader’s eyes were cast to the ground, his back to the soldiers who had him in their grasp. He slowly rose his head, refusing to back down, even at the end. He slowly turned himself around, facing the Guard with his head held high. His blue eyes were piercing, strong, determined. He could see that the soldiers were intimidated, not shooting him even now. He clutched the red flag in his fist, the beautiful flag of red that Musichetta had made for them. He thought of Musichetta now, the lively and happy woman who had always supported the cause. He thought of her lovers, of Joly and Bossuet. He didn’t even know where their bodies were. Enjolras took deep breaths, fist wrapped tightly around the fabric. He started to raise it, but he was pulled from his moment by a hoarse voice in the doorway.

“Wait.” Enjolras turned to see Grantaire standing at the top of the stairs, his eyes trained firmly on Enjolras. He appeared as though Enjolras was the only thing in the world that he was capable of seeing. He started walking, a stumbling, slow walk, as if he wasn’t moving by his own design, but rather Enjolras was pulling him closer. Enjolras wanted to scream, wanted to lash out at the man and tell him to leave. He had never believed in their cause, so he had no right to die for it. Why would he _want_ to die for it? Instead, Enjolras found himself frozen in stunned silence, unable to speak or move or do anything but stare at the disgraced cynic. “Long live the Republic.” Grantaire said, startling Enjolras even further. “Long live the Republic, I am one of them.” One of them. One of them? How could Grantaire say that now? He had never been one of them. How dare he? Enjolras wanted to be upset. He wanted to ridicule the drunk and be disgusted by him, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t bring himself to hate the man who was walking towards him, who wasn’t letting him die alone. “Finish us both with one blow.” Came Grantaire’s next line, forcing the tears laying just behind Enjolras’ eyes to fall. Grantaire was standing before the National Guard, standing beside Enjolras, and offering himself to die. It would be moving if it wasn’t so tragic. His eyes locked with Enjolras’ and the blond could see the desperation within them, the fear, the hope. It made his heart break. “Do you permit it?”

Permit it. Grantaire was asking him for permission to die beside Enjolras, looking afraid that the leader might shun him and turn him away. Had Enjolras really been that cruel to him? He supposed that he must have been, always insulting or degrading the cynic for his outspoken attitude. Enjolras wished he could take it all back now, wished he could take back every negative word he’d ever directed at the man before him. He wanted to laugh, he wanted to cry, he wanted to scream at the irony of it all. He did none of those things, instead clasping Grantaire’s hand in his own and beginning to smile. His smile was not yet finished when he heard the order be delivered, feeling the bullets pierce him before he heard the guns go off. He watched Grantaire fall and surprisingly felt no pain. He closed his eyes and allowed the darkness to take him.

***

Enjolras jolted up in bed, gasping for air. He couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t think, his entire body was trembling and he was coated in a thick layer of sweat. Everything stuck to his skin, his hair, his clothes, everything. He coughed harshly, fingers scrambling to grip the sheets around him, needing something to ground him. He took deep breaths, hair falling into his face as he tried to get enough air into his lungs. His hands moved up, running across his chest and torso, searching for holes, for wetness, for pain. When he pulled them away, he expected them to be covered in blood, but instead found nothing. He took panting breaths, falling back onto the bed and staring at the ceiling. A dream. It had all been a dream. Their revolution had not failed, his friends had not died. He closed his eyes, trying to focus on his breathing. In through his nose, out through his mouth. He needed to calm down. The dream had felt so real, though. He could still see his friends dying around him when he closed his eyes, could still hear the gunshots and cannon fire, could still smell the foul stench of blood, he could still feel Grantaire’s large hand in his own.

His eyes snapped open and fixated on the ceiling above him. Grantaire. Why had he dreamt of Grantaire? Enjolras didn’t think that he’d had a dream featuring Grantaire in his life and why would he? The leader tried not to spare the drunkard a second thought, despising his bitterness and argumentative side. What did his dream mean? Did he think that Grantaire was deserving of a second chance subconsciously? He shook his head, wanting to just forget the dream in its entirety. He sat up again and pulled the blankets from himself, feet hitting cold, wooden floors. He stood up, allowing his body to stretch and ease through the tightness in the joints. He blinked and tried to wait as his eyes adjusted to the darkness. He frowned as he peered around the small room.

This wasn’t his room. The room in his house was much larger and had more space. He didn’t have much furniture in his room, most of the space that was taken up was filled with his bed, his desk, and not much else. He never saw the need for a lot of furniture or useless items, finding them to be a complete waste. This room was much smaller and had much more furniture crammed into it, a desk shoved into a small corner, two dressers pressed against a wall, and a matching bed laying directly across from the one Enjolras had awoken in, a figure resting beneath the covers. Enjolras frowned deeply, eyes narrowing as he looked around the room, suspicion settling into his gut. This wasn’t right. His eyes flickered to a strange device resting on a side table beside the bed, displaying mysterious, glowing numbers. He took a step back, not trusting anything around him. Was this a trap? A trick? He studied the room around him with a suspicious glance. Suddenly, the small device with the numbers started emitting a blaring noise. He clamped his hands over his ears and he stumbled back, hitting the floor after tripping. He expected an explosion or a shot or some sort of pain. He looked up, the noise not stopping even as the figure in the other bed started rising.


	2. Tomorrow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A pretty simple chapter with Enjolras just adjusting to his surroundings. Enjoy!

Enjolras searched around himself from his place on the floor, looking for anything he could use against the mysterious figure. He needed to be able to defend himself against his kidnapper, if the figure was his kidnapper. Enjolras didn’t want things to turn violent, but he had to be prepared for if they did. His eyes darted across the room, his thoughts being hindered by the annoying beeping of the strange device. He’d accepted that it probably wasn’t a weapon, as if it had been one, Enjolras was certain that something would have happened by now, but noise was still deafening. He took deep breaths, his eyes settling on a small potted plant resting on one of the shelves of the bookshelf he was leaning against. He quickly grabbed it, clutching it in his hands, fully prepared to raise it above his head to smash it against the figure’s. He watched as a hand reached out from under the blankets, hitting the glowing device and making the noise end. Enjolras almost sighed in relief, rising to his feet and raising the plant as the figure stepped out of the bed. 

“Enjolras?” Enjolras almost jumped out of his skin when he heard the familiar voice of none other than Combeferre. The blond blinked repeatedly, staring at the figure of his friend, who was squinting, looking tired and confused. Combeferre reached towards the small table, grabbing a pair of round glasses that had been resting beside the device, putting them on and staring at Enjolras in concern. His eyes flickered from Enjolras’ face to the plant he was holding. “What are you doing?” 

“Uh.” How did Enjolras explain that he had come within seconds of smashing his friend’s head in with a plant? “I…” He shook his head, setting the plant back in its original spot. “That doesn’t matter.” He said quickly. “Where are we? What’s happened?” 

“What do you mean?” Combeferre yawned, raising his arms above his head to stretch them. He sleepily twisted his neck from side to side and Enjolras could hear the joints crack. 

“I mean that this is not my house!” Enjolras crossed his arms, fixing Combeferre with a pointed glare. Surely the other boy must have noticed that this room was nothing like any in either of their houses? 

Combeferre raised an eyebrow at his shorter friend. “Good eye, Enjolras.” He said, not even attempting to hide the sarcasm present in his tone. He chuckled at him and turned to make the bed he had just risen from, shaking his head. 

“What?” Enjolras was taken aback by how completely nonplussed Combeferre seemed. How could he be so unconcerned? “Combeferre, I woke up in a home that is not my own.” He said, as if rephrasing it was enough to get it through to the other boy. 

“I know, Enjolras.” Enjolras couldn’t see it, but he could hear Comebeferre’s eyes rolling just by the tone of his voice. “I woke up here too.” He reminded him.

“Yes, exactly!” Enjolras exclaimed, throwing his hands into the air. “We woke up in a room that is not ours and yet you act like this is completely normal!”

Combeferre turned on Enjolras with a sigh. “How much sleep did you get last night?” He looked him over and Enjolras was overcome with the feeling that he was being studied. “You need to sleep more, I’ve been telling you for years. The less sleep you get, the more confused you’re likely to be.” 

“I got plenty of sleep last night!” Enjolras had no idea if this statement was true or not, but that hardly mattered. “I am fully aware of myself, Combeferre, I assure you.” His tone was low, deadly. He was becoming quite frustrated by how Combeferre was treating him. 

Combeferre looked skeptical. “Well, I’m sure you’ll feel better after some coffee.” He decided eventually, walking to a small kitchen-like area, only it didn’t look like any kitchen that Enjolras had ever seen. There were more strange devices, completely unlike the one with the glowing numbers, but equally as mysterious. Some of them seemed to be built into the very structure of the building. 

Enjolras frowned and followed his friend into the strange space, everything so cramped together. Combeferre seemed rather familiar with the layout of the building and rooms. “Coffee?” Enjolras repeated, looking at Combeferre in surprise. Sure, he’d had coffee before, but it was usually reserved for special occasions and certainly not first thing in the morning. 

“Yes, Enjolras. Coffee.” Enjolras glared as Combeferre spoke as if he was teaching a very small child, slowly and enunciating every syllable. “You know, the brown liquid that makes life worth living?” He smirked up at Enjolras, as if they were sharing a joke that the blond seemed to be left out of. 

Enjolras just stared at Combeferre, not having a clue what he was talking about. He slowly walked over to a stool that was placed in front of a long stretch of countertop and sat down. He had no idea what was going on, but if Combeferre seemed unbothered, then he trusted that they were in no real harm. He just sat and watched as his taller friend busied himself within the kitchen, grabbing things from cupboards, turning knobs on a strange pipe that made running water pour from it, much to Enjolras’ surprise, and putting several objects into one of the devices. It was all so strange and Enjolras was completely fascinated by it. Where had Combeferre gotten these devices? Certainly he hadn’t invented them. What did they do? What was their purpose? How did they work? Enjolras had never been very interested in learning how things worked or why they did the things they did, he let Combeferre handle that particular science, but now he wanted to know everything about it. The devices were unlike anything he had ever seen before. 

Combeferre walked towards a mysterious switch on the wall and flicked it, causing the room to suddenly erupt with light. Enjolras was taken aback, blinking at the harsh, yellow glow. He looked around for any candles or matches that could have caused the light, but found nothing. All that was there was a strange orb of light hovering above the room, attached to the ceiling like a miniature sun.  “What on Earth?” He stared at the orb in complete bewilderment, astonished by its very existence. Where had it come from? Where was the light’s source? Was there a fire inside of the orb? 

“What are you on about now?” Combeferre leaned against the counter, resting himself on his elbows. He followed his gaze to the hanging light on the ceiling. “What? What is it? We don’t have bugs again, do we?” He grimaced, searching the ceiling for any sign of the critters. 

“What? No, no.” Enjolras shook his head. “There’s...no bugs.” He assured him, tearing his gaze away from the light, his eyes stinging and creating black spots in his vision. “It’s just the light.” He explained. 

“What about the light?” Combeferre frowned. “It’s not flickering or anything, right? We still have awhile before we need to change the bulb.” He spoke as if Enjolras could have a clue what on Earth he was talking about. 

“It’s just….no.” Enjolras cocked his head. “There’s no flame.” 

Combeferre looked at him as if he’d just said something ridiculous. “Yeah, I know?” He blinked at his friend. “Are you feeling alright?” He looked over at the device he had been putting things into and took out the bottom. He poured a liquid (Enjolras assumed it was coffee) into two mugs, setting one down in front of Enjolras. There was a buzzing sound that came from behind Enjolras and Combeferre made his way back to the small table. The boy picked up another strange device and pressed at the screen. “That’s Courf. He’s waiting for us downstairs, early as always.” He chuckled, a fond smile on his face. “We need to get dressed, come on.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't be afraid to leave comments, suggestions, predictions, and/or feedback!


	3. The Beginning of the Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Enjolras is having interactions with technology that he doesn't understand and his friends are growing concerned.

Enjolras’ head was still spinning as he stood from where he was perched on the stool. Combeferre seemed to know what was going on, seemed to know what to do. Enjolras might not understand what was happening, but if Combeferre did, it was probably safe to do as he said. Enjolras trusted Combeferre with his life and he was one of the smartest people Enjolras knew, so if Combeferre was acting like nothing was out of the ordinary, Enjolras trusted that it was best to follow his lead. He walked towards the beds again, watching as Combeferre went through his closet to grab his clothes. Enjolras slowly walked to the opposite closet, assuming that this one was his. He looked through all of the clothes that were hanging neatly on the hangers, moving through them. His brow furrowed in confusion as he looked at the different shirts, they were unlike any clothing he had ever worn before. They seemed looser, much less stiff and softer too. He didn’t know if these clothes were decent to wear in public, appearing more like nightclothes than anything. He slowly removed a white shirt from the closet, it appearing to be the most acceptable of all of them. He looked around for pants, but they were all made from a strange material and appeared to be rather tight fitting. He frowned deeply, not knowing at all what to wear. 

“Do you really still need help choosing clothes?” Enjolras jumped when he heard Combeferre’s voice in his ear, not having noticed the boy walk up behind him. “You’re going to be here all day.” He reached over his shoulder, grabbing a few articles of clothing before tossing them on the bed Enjolras had woken up in. “There. Now get dressed, Courf is getting impatient.” He said before stripping out of his shirt right in front of Enjolras. 

Enjolras felt his cheeks heat up and he quickly turned his back to Combeferre, hiding his eyes. It was incredibly indecent of Combeferre to just strip in front of his friend. What was he thinking? Was Enjolras expected to do the same thing? The blond swallowed thickly and went to walk behind what he now supposed was his bed. He kept his back firmly to Combeferre, not wanting to impose on his friend’s privacy. He tried to get the image of the guide’s muscular torso out of his head, but it kept popping back in. The blond took a breath and shook his head, looking at the clothes Combeferre had set out for him. He honestly didn’t know where to start. The clothes were strange and he didn’t even know what all of them were. He picked up a strange piece of fabric, holding it in his hands and running his fingers over it. He had no idea what it could possibly be. It seemed to have holes for the head and two arms, but it was much too short to be considered a shirt. He looked over it, trying to figure it out. 

“Enjolras.” Combeferre sounded exasperated. “You’re going to make us late. Put your binder on.” Enjolras looked over to see that Combeferre was nearly fully dressed, buckling the belt on his pants. 

Enjolras didn’t know how he was supposed to ask how to put on the ‘binder’, as Combeferre had called it. He just flushed and turned his back to his friend again. He slowly removed his nightshirt, shivering as his chest was left bare. He knew that his face was pink from the embarrassment, but he held the binder in his hands, taking deep breaths. He had no bandages given to himself to bind his chest and he couldn’t go out without doing so. He started to panic, looking around for something he could do, anything he could do. He paused and turned his attention back to the binder in his hands. Binder? The words clicked in his brain, hesitating before pulling the article over his head, adjusting it and pulling it over his chest. It fit snugly, but comfortably, working in the same way bandages would, but better. The fabric was softer and he didn’t have to worry about being sure it wasn’t too tight or too loose. It was perfect. Enjolras couldn’t believe it. Why did this exist? Certainly it couldn’t be for someone like him? Enjolras didn’t know anyone like him. He snapped out of his thoughts, knowing that Combeferre was waiting for him. He flushed and quickly tugged the shirt on over the binder, changing his pants, and slipping on a red jacket. He tugged at the clothes, unnerved by how strange they felt, but they were very comfortable. He smiled, sitting on the bed to put on stockings that were much too short to be actual stockings.

Combeferre walked off and into a side room and Enjolras could hear the sound of running water coming from the room. He shook his head and put on what were apparently shoes, though they were unlike any that Enjolras had owned before. He was still so confused, but he didn’t say anything or ask more questions. Combeferre seemed to know what he was going on and how to maneuver around wherever they were. Enjolras just had to trust him. He stood up and looked in a mirror that was hanging on the wall. He looked the same as he had at any other point, his face still long and far too feminine, his eyes were still piercing blue, his hair was still long and wavy. He was the same person as he was before, it was everything around him that had changed. He sighed and rubbed his face, looking for a bowl and pitcher to wash his face in. He found none and sighed, looking at the door Combeferre had exited through. He hesitated, but slowly pushed the door open, revealing an even smaller room with no furniture within it save a tub, a pipe similar to the one in the kitchen, and a white bowl looking statue. 

Combeferre looked up, appearing to be brushing his teeth. He spat into the basin attached to the pipe, turning a knob to cause running water to flow again. 

“All yours.” Combeferre gestured for Enjolras to use the pipe and basin before leaving the room, shutting the door behind him. 

Enjolras looked at the mirror hanging above the pipe and took a breath, reaching out for one of the knobs. He slowly turned it and jumped when the pipe started spraying water, caught by surprise even though it was doing exactly what he had hoped it would. He took a breath and watched the water run into the basin, flowing out through a hole in the bottom of said basin. He wondered where it was going. He shook his head, it didn’t matter. He needed to focus. He slowly moved his hands under the liquid, almost surprised to find that the water was indeed real. He splashed his face with it, trying to wake himself up from whatever this was. He sighed and stared at his reflection. “What is this?” He whispered to himself, shaking his head. He took a comb that was resting on the counter, running it through his hair until it looked pleasing enough. He looked for a ribbon to tie it with, but found none. He huffed and went through several drawers, searching for something, anything he could use. 

“Enjolras, we really need to go.” Combeferre stuck his head into the room. “You can do your hair in the car. Let’s go.” He grabbed Enjolras’ arm and dragged him out, handing him a bag and grabbing a set of keys. Enjolras had no choice but to follow along, walking after Combeferre out of the small room and down a flight of stares. They walked out of the series of buildings around them, arriving at a strange clearing filled with mysterious devices that were much larger than any of the new things that Enjolras had come across so far. He looked around, staring at the large machines in confusion. He saw that just a little ways away, there was what appeared to be a street filled with the machines, moving at speeds faster than what Enjolras could even imagine. His eyes widened and he wondered what they could possibly be for. 

“There you are!” Enjolras turned at the sound of a voice, watching as Courfeyrac ran up to them. “I was worried! You guys are never late!” He insisted, hands being thrown into the air dramatically. 

“I know. I know, but we’re here now.” Combeferre assured their friend. “ _ Someone _ just didn’t get enough sleep and we both suffered for it.” He shot a pointed glare at Enjolras. 

“I told you! I got plenty of-” Enjolras was immediately cut off by Courfeyrac.

“That doesn’t matter!” The boy exclaimed. “Joly is going to throw a fit if we’re too late. Come on!” He grabbed both of their hands and pulled, dragging them along to who knows where. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This isn't the best chapter, but it's mostly for humor and more set up. The next chapter gets into a little more plot. Please leave comments with suggestions, feedback, or predictions!


	4. Do You Wanna Ride

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The introduction of more characters and Enjolras' first experience with a car.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not very happy with this chapter, but here it is! Also, I have a tumblr @real-moritz-stiefel and I have an ask blog @ask-azelma-thenardier

Courfeyrac dragged Combeferre and Enjolras up to one of the strange machines and Enjolras’ eyes widened. They weren’t going into it, were they? He glanced at the road, where the machines were rushing back and forth. There was no way they’d survive moving that quickly. Combeferre pressed a button on his set of keys and lights lit up on the maschine, it making a strange honking noise. Combeferre opened one of the doors in the front and sat down in one of the seats. Courfeyrac went on the other side and got into the other front seat. Enjolras froze in his tracks. There was no way that they were serious about this. 

“Come on!” Courfeyrac called to Enjolras, gesturing to the seats placed behind the front ones. Enjolras slowly opened one of the back doors and slipped inside, leaning against the seat and looking around the interior of the maschine. It was strangely comfortable and quaint, Enjolras found that he didn’t really mind it. That was until something happened and he felt it rumble to life around him. He was surrounded by the movements, the entire thing shaking as it started moving. What was this? How was it doing this? There was nowhere for coal to be fed to it and it wasn’t being pulled by anything. It was entirely overwhelming. He clutched at anything he could get his hands on as the maschine moved, pulling down the road at high speeds. This should be impossible. It made absolutely no sense. He closed his eyes and leaned back, trying not to be sick at the sensation. His head was spinning, this time possibly literally. It seemed to go on forever. Did the maschine ever stop? He was distantly aware that Courfeyrac and Combeferre were carrying on a conversation despite the high speeds and strange feeling. Enjolras pressed the back of his hand against his mouth to keep from being ill. 

Eventually the maschine came to a stop and Enjolras couldn’t be more relieved. He took deep breaths and practically threw himself out of the contraption, feeling satisfied when his feet touched solid, unmoving ground. He leaned against the machine and closed his eyes, begging the world to stop spinning. 

“Are you okay?” A voice called out and Enjolras opened his eyes to see the small figure of Joly. “You’re not sick are you?” He asked worriedly. “Oh, you shouldn’t have come if you were sick!” 

“He’s not sick.” Combeferre placed a hand on Enjolras’ shoulder. “He’s just sleep deprived.” 

“Sleep deprivation makes you much more susceptible to illness.” Joly pointed out with a frown. “You really need to take care of yourself, Enjolras. I’ve been telling you this forever.” His face was the perfect display of concern, looking exactly as Enjolras always remembered him; small, anxious, and fretting over the health of his friends. It was something so overwhelming familiar in a sea of things that made no sense and Enjolras found himself laughing. This only caused the doctor to look even more worried. 

“I’m fine.” Enjolras waved Joly off. He didn’t know if he really was fine, with everything that was happening around him, but he seemed to be the only one who was experiencing the strangeness of it all and he didn’t want to worry Joly. “I just was overcome by slight nausea while in the…” He trailed off and pointed to the machine, having no idea what it was called. 

“The car?” Joly looked even more concerned, if that was possible. 

Enjolras nodded. “Yes, right. The car.” He smiled, nodding as if he understood what he was saying. He supposed that they name made sense, at least. Car, like carriage, but not. It added up at least. “Sorry, I just...couldn’t remember the word.” He tried to explain, standing up straighter. 

Joly looked Enjolras up and down. “Have been drinking enough water? Motion sickness can be caused by you not drinking enough.” He explained. “Or eating? Have you eaten? You should eat. 

“Hey, baby. Relax.” Bossuet wrapped an arm around Joly, surprising Enjolras. Had he been there the whole time? He supposed that he must have been, but Enjolras hadn’t noticed him, which was odd, considering that Bossuet was by far the tallest member of Les Amis, towering over everyone. This fact was made amusing due to the fact that Joly was the shortest, so the image of the two of them standing side-by side painted an almost cartoonish picture. “I’m sure he’s fine.” Bossuet continued, rubbing his shorter friend’s back.

Joly sighed and leaned against Bossuet’s side. “I know.” He said quietly. “I know, I just worry.” 

“I know, doll.” Bossuet kissed Joly’s temple, pulling the boy close. Enjolras was shocked by how physically intimate the two friends were being. The Joly and Bossuet Enjolras knew were very quick to jump away from each other whenever anyone saw they so much as touching one another. They didn’t seem to like physical intimacy at all in Enjolras’ experience. Why was that changed now? It seemed like such an odd change. He supposed that it was pointless to try and make sense of the changes that had happened around him seemingly overnight. Things were just different now. There seemed to be no reason at all for it and Enjolras was beginning to worry that things might not go back to normal. 

“We’ve got class, boys. So, unless you want to stand around and pat each other’s backs all day, let’s get going.” Enjolras frowned as he heard a completely unfamiliar voice. He looked over to see a woman with wild hair, wearing a dress that was far too short and showing way too much skin to be appropriate. Enjolras’ eyes widened and his jaw dropped, staring at the girl. How could she be dressed so scandalously and not warrant attention? He quickly dropped his eyes, feeling ashamed for even laying eyes on her. 

“Right, sorry, ‘Chetta.” Joly smiled and walked to the woman, kissing her cheek. Oh, that made sense. This was Musichetta, Joly and Bossuet’s lover. Enjolras was taken aback by how different she looked, her dress hugging her curves, her hair wild and unkept instead of kept in a bonnet. It was no wonder that he hadn’t recognized her, she looked completely different. He was taken aback by the sheer level of which she was different. Enjolras had never been close to the woman, only speaking to her maybe a handful of times, but he knew that she wasn’t like this! Musichetta was not a whore, not when he knew her. She was kind and passionate and had a wild side, but she never seemed the type to dress like this. It was shameful. Why would Bossuet and Joly give themselves over to such a person? 

Bossuet smiled. “Enjolras, ready to go?” He pulled Enjolras from his thoughts. 

“Huh? Oh, yes.” Enjolras nodded before frowning. “Where are we going?” 

Joly frowned worriedly. “It’s Monday.” He said gently. “You have your Political Science class with Lesgle.” He gestured to Bossuet. “‘Ferre and I have our Human Anatomy class, and Courf and ‘Chetta have Gender Studies.” He reminded him. “We walk together on Mondays. Remember?”

Enjolras absolutely did not remember. “Right! Right, of course.” He tried to laugh it off. “Sorry, I must have forgotten.” Joly wasn’t the only one looking at him in concern now. 

“Please try to get more sleep.” Joly pleaded. “I will come to your dorm if I have to.” He warned, pointing a threatening finger at the blond. 

Enjolras put his hands up. “Understood.” He said quickly. A thought suddenly occurred to him. “Did you say that Musichetta is going to class?”  He asked, brows furrowing. Women couldn’t attend school, or at least not college, could they? 

Musichetta raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, class.” She said in a very dramatic, sarcastic fashion. “You know, the place where you learn?” He laughed and shook her head. “Crazy, right?” She rolled her eyes. “Courf, come on. We’re already going to be later than usual.”

“Right! Coming!” Courfeyrac jogged after Musichetta, walking beside her in one direction. Enjolras stared after them, feeling utterly confused. Musichetta was going to class. That was so strange. What kind of world was he in? He wasn’t complaining that women could attend school, of course he wasn’t, but it was just so odd. 

“Are you sure you’re feeling alright?” Joly pressed, looking so worried. 

“Yes, I’m sure. I’m fine.” Enjolras insisted. “Sorry, I just...didn’t get enough sleep.” He decided that going along with the excuse that others had already provided was the path of least resistance. 

“I told you!” Joly insisted. “You need to rest!” 

“I will, I will.” Enjolras assured him. “I will.” He really just wanted the doctor to stop fretting over him so much. 

“Come on, Joly.” Combeferre put a calming hand on Joly’s shoulder. “I’ll make sure he gets plenty of sleep tonight. We really need to get going to class”  He insisted. Joly nodded, giving Enjolras one last worried look before walking off with Combeferre. 

Enjolras sighed as he watched them go, feeling even more confused than he had this morning. Why were things so different? Why did no one else seem concerned by it at all? He just wanted to go back to how things were. They had a revolution to plan, a government to overthrow, things to do. Enjolras’ dream suddenly popped back into his head. Them fighting for their lives, losing, dying, crying, Enjolras feeling utterly alone. He tried to snap himself out of it, shaking his head. It was just a dream, none of it was real. There was still hope for their revolution. He just couldn’t shake the feeling that something was terribly wrong. 

“Come on, we should go too.” Bossuet said quietly. He led Enjolras towards one of the buildings that surrounded them and Enjolras let himself be led blindly. He was confused and concerned. He just wanted to go back. This wasn’t his world and these weren’t his friends. Yes, they looked like his friends, sounded like his friends, acted like his friends, but they weren’t his friends. They were different in subtle ways, but they were different. Everything about everything was different. He just didn’t know why or how.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Don't be afraid to comment!


	5. Chairs and Tables

The class made absolutely no sense, at least to Enjolras. It was obvious that the class had taught other lessons before this class and it was necessary to have knowledge of those lessons in order to be able to understand this one. It all sounded like relative gibberish to Enjolras, who spent the entire class sitting in the back and jotting down notes on everything he had learned about wherever he was. He realized that most buildings had those miniature suns within them and that they were powered by flicking a switch somehow. He learned that most places had running water that was safe for consumption, as shown by him passing people who were drinking from what he heard described as a ‘water fountain’. He knew what a car was, even if he didn’t understand how it worked or why they seemed to be so dangerous. There were a lot of women who went to school, or at least who went to this school. The class was filled with women, much to Enjolras’ astonishment. He didn’t know why or when this had happened, but they were treated no differently than the male students. No one seemed to have an issue with this, surprisingly. He also realized that not all women wore skirts or dresses, some were walking around in pants like it was the most normal thing in the world. Women were dressing, behaving, and being treated as men and Enjolras couldn’t find it within himself to complain. He supposed that it would be rather hypocritical of him to do so. 

He also jotted down several things about the strange technology, the devices and machines that they used to do all sorts of things that Enjolras couldn’t have imagined were possible. Enjolras had noticed a maschine just by sitting in class that seemed to create cold air, but he couldn’t tell if there was a fan within it or not. It was like he had been teleported to some sort of alternate universe was everything was far more advanced. He just didn’t understand how in the world his friends didn’t notice or why they seemed unbothered. Why did they treat him like he should understand these things that were around him? It made no sense. He tried to think back to the last thing he remembered before appearing in this strange place, but the only thing he could think of was that dream. He could remember the day in the dream perfectly. He could remember waking up, getting dressed, preparing, talking with his friends, scowling as they laughed and tried to make light of what was to come. He remembered the spy, he remembered Marius’ love, he remembered the girl who had died for Marius, but  _ wasn’t _ his love, he remembered ridiculing Grantaire, Jehan’s death, killing Claquesous, everything up to the very moment of his in-dream death. Try as he might, he couldn’t remember when he might have fallen asleep in order to have that dream or any point in which he could have been captured or anything of the like. It didn’t make sense. 

“...Enjolras.” A voice pulled him from his thoughts and his head snapped up for him to realize that all eyes in the class were focused on him and the professor was clearly addressing him. 

Enjolras’ face turned scarlet. “Sir?” He cleared his throat and tucked a long strand of hair behind his ear. He wasn’t used to wearing it down and he truly disliked it, but he still wasn’t in possession of a ribbon to tie it with. 

“I was saying that you have been unusually quiet.” The professor explained, causing Enjolras to blush deeper. “And I was wondering if you’d care to answer my question.” 

Enjolras felt awfully humiliated, all eyes in the room trained on him. He sat up straighter, trying to remain dignified. “Could you repeat the question, please, sir?” His voice came out stronger and more confident than he felt, but Enjolras had mastered the art of appearing dignified. He was the leader of a revolution, after all, he couldn’t afford to risk people believing he had weakness. 

“Who defined democracy as “Government of the people, by the people, for the people”?” The professor asked, looking at Enjolras. 

Enjolras blinked, staring at the professor. He honestly had no idea. This felt like something he should definitely know, but he didn’t. He looked around the room, glancing at other students, a few of whom started laughing quietly. Enjolras was certain that his entire face was a horrible shade of pink. He swallowed thickly. “Uh, well…” He glanced at Bossuet, who was staring at him in mild confusion. “That would be…” His eyes scanned the room, looking for any hint of what the answer might be. 

The professor sighed and shook his head. “Anyone else?” He looked around the room and several people raised their hands. “Lesgle.” He called on Bossuet. 

“Abraham Lincoln?” Bossuet guessed. 

The professor nodded. “Very good.” He went back to the board, returning to teaching. Enjolras let out a sigh and slunk back into his seat, feeling horribly embarrassed. He didn’t have much time to stew in it, though, as within the next few moments, a bell rang and everyone stood up, collecting their things. Enjolras sighed in relief and grabbed his own bag. He made a beeline towards the door, wanting to just get out of there. He didn’t care that he didn’t have a clue where he was going or where anything was. He just wanted out of that class. He was stopped by a large hand on his shoulder. “Hey, slow down.” He spun around and came face to face with the professor. 

“Oh. Professor. Hello.” Enjolras stared at him, thinking about how he seemed mildly familiar despite him having no clue who he was. “Did you need me?” 

“Are you feeling okay, son?” The professor looked over Enjolras with a worried expression. “You're not overworking yourself, are you? You need to take a break every once in awhile, you know.” 

“Yes, sir. Of course.” Enjolras didn’t understand why this random professor seemed to care about him. “I just need to catch up on sleep.” He said quickly. “That’s all. With some sleep, I’m sure that I’ll feel good as new.” He forced a smile. 

The professor looked over him and looked like he was going to say something else, but he shook his head. “Okay. Just take care of yourself, son.” 

“Yes, sir. Thank you.” Enjolras fled from the classroom as quickly as he could, sighing deeply. He was so glad that was over. Now people who he didn’t even know had relationships with him. How was he supposed to keep up? It was exhausting. He heard a set of footsteps jogging up to him. 

“Hey, what happened in there?” Bossuet asked, a rather worried expression on his face. “You knew that answer, I know you did. You’re the best student in that class. What gives?”

“Nothing! Nothing, I’m fine.” Enjolras was most certainly not fine. He was overwhelmed, he was struggling, he didn’t understand anything. He just wanted to go back, but he didn’t know if he could. He didn’t know what was wrong with everything and everyone. He wanted to curl into a ball and cry for days. 

“You really don’t seem fine.” Bossuet pressed. “You know what, I’m going to fill in for Joly here and say that you should go home. You’ve been overworked lately and you should take the day off to rest. I know that you don’t take sick days or whatever, bla bla bla, but you need it, E.” 

Enjolras opened his mouth to protest, Bossuet was right, he didn’t take sick days, but he paused. He honestly didn’t know if he’d be able to keep up with multiple classes like this and maybe being alone could give him time to figure out exactly what the hell was going on. “I...okay.” He said lamely. 

Bossuet looked completely taken aback. “Really?” Enjolras nodded slowly in response. “Okay. I’ll drive you.” He offered, leading him towards what Enjolras was pretty sure had been referred to as a ‘parking lot’ by someone. He smiled at him. “I’m proud of you for taking care of yourself.” He said, sounding genuinely pleased. “Oh, what did Professor Valjean need from you?” He asked. 

Enjolras shrugged, glad that he at least knew the professor’s name now. “Just wanted me to take care of myself, I guess.” He murmured. 

Bossuet nodded. “Good. You should rest. I’m certain that Combeferre can take care of Les Amis meeting tonight too.”

Enjolras stopped in his tracks. There was a Les Amis meeting? Les Amis still existed? “Absolutely not.” He said immediately, his mind rushing. “I’m going to that meeting.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a kinda ehh chapter, I know. The next chapter is going to be a big one!


	6. The Cafe Musain

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm actually really proud of this chapter. Just a note, Enjolras will be misgendering some characters in this chapter, but only because he doesn't know better. Correct pronouns will be used in future chapters. I also have an actual update schedule now! I'll try to update every Wednesday.

Enjolras spent the rest of the day in his dorm that he apparently shared with Combeferre. Bossuet had filled him in on everything on the car ride over. He still wasn’t used to the car and its high speeds, but it didn’t feel nearly as bad as it did the first time. He was able to carry on a conversation and make a plan with Bossuet for later that day; the meeting was at six o’clock and was to be held at the Cafe Musain. Courfeyrac was supposed to text him (Enjolras wasn’t sure what that meant, but Bossuet had gestured to a device called a phone, so he assumed it had something to do with that), Combeferre would pick him up before taking him to the Musain. That was supposed to give him enough time to proofread his speech and be prepared for the meeting. The problem, of course, was that Enjolras had no idea what his speech was about, where it was, or what he was supposed to be talking about. Bossuet didn’t know that, though and Enjolras wasn’t about to tell him. He couldn’t tell him. Couldn’t tell him or anyone else. They’d think he had gone absolutely insane. Maybe he had, it would make a lot of sense.

Enjolras was pacing around the room, hair flying behind him with every movement, hands in his pockets. How was he supposed to know what to do with any of this technology? How was he supposed to be prepared for the meeting? He was expected to present a speech, but he had nothing prepared, or he did have something prepared, but he couldn’t remember what it was. He still needed to figure out what on Earth was going on. He took a deep breath and eventually stopped pacing. He felt suddenly light headed and dizzy. He hadn’t eaten anything all day in his anxiety and confusion, too focused on everything else around him to remember to do such a mundane thing as eating. He went into the kitchen and opened a door connected to a large cabinet-looking thing that was most definitely not a cabinet. He’d only been in this strange place for a few hours, but he had learned that if he questioned each new device he came across, he was going to drive himself mad. He looked inside of the not-cabinet and found that it was cold inside, it must be some sort of refrigerator, he could understand that, at least to some degree. It was different compared to the refrigerators he knew, of course, there was a little light inside and the coldness seemed to be coming from the maschine itself, but he couldn’t afford to dwell on that now. He sighed and grabbed a small container of what appeared to be pasta, setting it on the counter and retrieving a fork from one of the drawers. He ate slowly, staring at the wall and not bothering to sit at the tiny table. He became lost in his thoughts, trying to connect pieces together in his head, completely blocking everything around him out of his mind.

Enjolras was snapped out of his trance by a knock at the door, causing him to nearly jump out of his skin and knock the food off of the counter. He took a breath and checked a nearby clock, realizing that it was almost the time Combeferre was to be picking him up. He hurried to the door, pulling it open and coming face to face with Combeferre himself. 

“Why didn’t you pick up your phone?” The boy seemed more exasperated than angry and his lips were pulled into a tight frown as they always were when he was concerned. “Courf has been texting you for the past half hour.” 

“Right, sorry.” Enjolras shook his head. “I just lost track of time.” It wasn’t a lie, not quite, he had very much lost track of time. He quickly returned to the kitchen, putting the top back onto the container of pasta and returning it to the fridge. “We should get going, right?” He moved to exit the room, but Combeferre stopped him with a gentle hand on his arm. 

“E, slow down.” His voice was laced with worry. “You’re forgetting almost everything.” He shook his head and stepped into the dorm, grabbing Enjolras’ phone and a flat square looking device. He came back to his friend and shoved the devices into his arms. “You need these.” 

Enjolras felt his cheeks heat up, feeling remarkably stupid. “Right. Of course. I know that.” He took the objects from Combeferre, tucking the phone into his back pocket and slipping the square object under his arm. 

Combeferre seemed suspicious, but walked with the blond down the stairs. “Are you sure that you’re alright? I can lead the meeting if you need me to, it really wouldn’t be any trouble.” 

“No!” Enjolras was quick to protest and shake his head stubbornly. “I’m fine, really. I can do it.” Les Amis was his group, in which he was the leader. He couldn’t let them down like that, no matter what was going on with him. He had a responsibility to them and he didn’t take that responsibility lightly.  

“Okay, okay.” Combeferre put his hands up in surrender, though he didn’t drop the concerned look from his face. “Just let me know if you change your mind, okay?” 

Enjolras nodded. “Yeah, okay. I will.” He waved Combeferre off, having no intention of changing his mind. Combeferre let out a long sigh as the two of them entered his car and took off. The ride was relatively quiet, Enjolras spending most of it staring out of the window and watching everything fly by. It was all so different in ways he couldn’t hope to understand. He just wanted to know why he had no memory of any of it. 

They pulled into a small parking lot outside of a small cafe with the word “Musain” hanging above the doors in glowing letters. It looked nothing like the Cafe Musain that Enjolras was familiar with, being smaller, brighter, and somehow more inviting. It seemed more homely and friendly with the close quarters, being more of an open place where one spends time with friends rather than a place where they must speak in hushed whispers to hide secrets. As the boys approached the doors, Enjolras noticed a flyer reading “Les Amis meetings held here: Mondays and Fridays, 6-9”. How were they so open about it? They couldn’t afford to be so public about their meetings or what they were doing, they could be arrested for treason. Perhaps that was another thing that was different here. 

Combeferre pushed open the door and led Enjolras inside, allowing him to look around the small building. There were tables pushed together, a counter at the front where Musichetta was wiping it down, the dim light filled Enjolras with a sense of ease and relaxation. He found that he didn’t really mind the changes here, they seemed more beneficial than not. Enjolras’ eyes scanned the room and settled on the only other person who was there, Courfeyrac’s curls standing out to the blond. The boy looked up and waved his friends over with a happy grin, smiling as the two other boys sat across from him. 

“Hey, where were you?” Courf asked, chin resting against the palm of his hand. “You weren’t answering your phone. I was worried!” 

Enjolras set the square device down on the table and shook his head. “Sorry. I just completely lost track of time and wasn’t on my...phone.” He explained, hoping that he was using the correct word. 

Courfeyrac nodded in understanding. “Did you at least get a nap in?” 

“I...yes.” Enjolras decided that the small lie wouldn’t hurt anything. “I took a small nap before Combeferre came.” He forced a strained smile, hoping that his friend believed him.

“Okay. Good!” Courfeyrac smiled and seemed to believe him, much to his relief. “You have the speech prepared, right?” 

Enjolras swallowed thickly, unsure of how to answer. “Of course.” He had already lied this much, what was one more? 

“Could I read over it?” Combeferre requested, grabbing the square device. Was Enjolras’ speech somehow on that? He supposed it must be because Combeferre was opening it and pressing buttons. 

“Go right ahead.” Enjolras scooted over so he could look over his friend’s shoulder and see what exactly his speech was about. Words appeared on the screen with the title “Medical Body Shaming and Effects”. Combeferre’s brows furrowed in concentration as he read over it, leaving Enjolras to wonder how it was doing that. He sighed deeply and watched as Combeferre made corrections and changes on the screen, his face remaining a calm mask. 

“It’s good.” The guide said eventually. “Very good. Impressive.” He slid the device back to Enjolras. “Very well written.” 

“Thank you.” Enjolras tried not to bask in the praise as much as he wanted to. He really shouldn’t feel that proud, as it wasn’t even he who had written the speech, but Combeferre’s praise didn’t come very frequently. Combeferre was the type of person who was very hard to impress, which made every compliment he offered count. 

Enjolras looked up as he heard the door open, watching Joly and Bossuet hurry inside. “Oh, we’re not the last ones!” Joly sounded pleasantly surprised. “I was worried. Lesgle was having car troubles on the way here.” He explained. 

“When is he not having car troubles?” Musichetta called, causing the doctor to go red. 

“Yes, fair point.” He giggled and walked over to the woman, leaning against the bar to talk excitedly with her. Enjolras supposed that the two of them were rather cute together, with most of Musichetta’s words causing the poor doctor to turn scarlet or giggle sweetly. They looked so fondly at each other, so happy to be near each other. Enjolras was so focused on watching the two of them, that he didn’t even notice as the third member of their trio took a seat next to him.

“They’re cute, aren’t they?” Bossuet asked fondly, startling the leader. 

Enjolras looked back at the taller man and nodded, looking back at the two talking. “They are.” He agreed. “You are also romantically involved with Musichetta, yes?” He asked, earning a chuckle from the boy. 

“Yes.” Bossuet nodded with a smile. “I am “romantically involved’ with both of them.” He made quotation marks with his fingers. 

“Both of them?” Enjolras was caught off guard. That couldn’t be right. Enjolras was aware that both Bossuet and Joly were romantically involved with Musichetta, who in turn was romantically involved with each of them. Bossuet and Joly were best friends, everyone knew that. The two of them trusted each other and lived together, sharing everything they had, including Musichetta. Was Bossuet trying to imply that he and Joly were also romantically involved with each other? That couldn’t be right at all. Bossuet was saved from answering by the door opening.

Bahorel walked in, cracking his knuckles. He looked no different to when Enjolras had last seen him, save for his clothes, but everyone’s clothing was different to some degree. He looked around and smiled at the sitting group, taking a seat beside Courfeyrac. “Hey. Glad I’m not late.” He grinned at them, teeth rather crooked as always. “Prouvaire isn’t here yet, are they?” He looked around the cafe.

“Nope, not yet.” Courfeyrac was grinning so brightly. “Why? Are you finally going to ask them out?” His voice had a teasing tone in it, almost musical. 

Bahorel’s face turned dark red. “No!” 

“Why not? You know they’d say yes.” Courfeyrac insisted. 

“No, I don’t know that.” Bahorel said sharply. “And I’m not going to risk it.” 

Bossuet chuckled. “‘Rel, I really do think they’d say yes. Everyone can see them making heart eyes at you.”

Bahorel shook his head. “They’re not interested, guys. Really.” He protested, looking around at his friends. “I think I’d noticed if they were interested.”

“And yet they haven’t noticed your infatuation with them.” Courfeyrac pointed out. 

Enjolras felt like he was missing something in this conversation. He had absolutely no clue what was going on, who were “they”? Weren’t they talking about Jehan Prouvaire at first? Why were they talking about multiple people now? Was Bahorel romantically interested in multiple people? What happened to his mistress? 

“They are definitely interested in you, Bahorel.” Combeferre adjusted his glasses. “You are absolutely blind.” 

Bahorel huffed. “Can we please just drop it?” He pleaded, face burning scarlet. 

“Fine, fine.” Courfeyrac shook his head. “But if you change your mind, we all know I’m the matchmaker of the group and I will hook you up. I know this little cafe that Jehan would absolutely love.”

Bahorel shook his head and rolled his eyes. “Yeah, whatever.” He waved Courfeyrac off and tried to hide his face, looking so relieved when someone else entered the cafe.

“Oh, hey, guys!” Feuilly waved and walked over, smiling at them. “What are we talking about?” 

“Nothing anymore!” Bahorel put a hand over Courfeyrac’s mouth so he wouldn’t be able to bring up the subject that Bahorel was trying desperately to change. “We can talk about whatever you bring to the table. Please.”

Feuilly chuckled. “You’re talking about Prouvaire again, aren’t you?” He asked, to which Courfeyrac nodded in confirmation. “Alright, well we can talk about something else since Bahorel clearly doesn’t want to discuss it.” He looked pointedly at Courfeyrac, patting Bahorel on the back in sympathy. “Enjolras, I heard you weren’t feeling well. How are you doing?”

“I’m fine.” Enjolras said quickly, glad to be back on a conversation he could keep up with and fully understand. “I was just tired.” 

Feuilly nodded and smiled sympathetically. “You should really work on taking care of yourself. I know that you rarely sleep enough.”

Enjolras nodded. “I’ll work on it.” He assured with a gentle smile. “Thank you for your concern.” 

Feuilly smiled and nodded. “Of course.” He looked around. “We’re only waiting for a few more people, right?” 

At that moment, the door opened and a nervous looking Marius Pontmercy walked inside, followed by two girls that Enjolras didn’t recognize. One of them seemed vaguely familiar, but Enjolras couldn’t place how.

“H-Hey!” Marius squeaked, walking over to the group, the girls remaining by the door. “Sorry if I’m late!"

“You’re not.” Feuilly assured. “We’re still waiting for R and Jehan, don’t worry.”

“Oh. Oh, good.” Marius looked so relieved. “Oh, we brought someone new! Eponine’s sister really wanted to come. I hope that’s okay?”

“Of course that’s okay!” Feuilly said immediately. “The more the merrier!” Enjolras smiled and nodded in agreement, though he wondered if it was a good idea to include more women. Things did seem to be different for women here, however, so he remained quiet about that particular concern. Enjolras watched as the girls led in another, smaller girl in a wheelchair. 

They walked towards the group and the girl Enjolras thought as familiar smiled. “This is my sister, Azelma.” She introduced, one hand resting on the back of the girl’s chair. 

The girl, Azelma, waved at the group. “Hello.” She seemed a little shy, but eager to meet everyone. 

Combeferre smiled. “It’s a pleasure to have you here.” He greeted. “We’ll be sure to introduce everyone once everyone is here.” He told her, to which she smiled and nodded. 

Enjolras smiled politely at the girl, not sure of what to say to her, he wasn’t exactly the welcoming or social type. He looked up as the door opened again and in walked Jehan Prouvaire, dressed in a way that made his jaw drop. The poet was wearing a floral dress and polka dot tights that did not go together at all, hair pulled over their shoulder in a braid. It was extremely feminine and no one seemed surprised or bothered by it at all. The romantic was followed by Grantaire, hair untamed and greasy, wearing an oversized hoodie and looking like a slob, as usual. That, at least, was nothing new, but Enjolras wasn’t focused on him at all.

“Hey, sorry we’re late.” Jehan apologized with a sweet and gentle smile. “Are we the last ones?”

Combeferre nodded. “Yeah. We have a guest with us.” He gestured to Azelma, who blushed and waved bashfully.

“Oh! Hello.” Jehan smiled warmly at the girl, waving back at her. “I’m Jehan Prouvaire, it’s a pleasure to meet you.” He curtsied to her, causing her to giggle. 

“I think we should start with introductions?” Combeferre suggested. “We can just go around and say name, pronouns, and gender as they feel comfortable sharing?” 

Courfeyrac nodded. “That sounds good!” He agreed. “I’ll go first!” He offered, to which Combeferre motioned for him to go ahead. “Alexandre de Courfeyrac, at your service!” He winked. “You can call me Courf, most people do.” He grinned widely. “I am a trans demiboy, he/them pronouns.” He said with a flourish, hands waving in the air dramatically. “I’m also autistic and hard of hearing.” He lifted his curls, revealing a strange device in his ears. Azelma completely lit up at that, smiling brightly. “I’m dating ‘Ferre over there.” He pointed to Combeferre. 

Combeferre chuckled and nodded. “I’m Cosme Combeferre. I am a cisgender male. He/him pronouns.” He said calmly and politely before looking over at Bahorel. 

“Rangi Bahorel.” Bahorel waved. “Gender is...whatever.” He shrugged. “I use he/him pronouns, but they/them is fine if you’d prefer.” 

Feuilly smiled. “Conleth Feuilly.” He introduced with a gentle smile, shaking Azelma’s hand. “Agender. I use he/her/them interchangeably, so use whatever you would like.” 

“Felix Lesgle.” Bossuet introduced. “Most people call me Bossuet for a really convoluted reason. I use he/him.” He looked over at Joly and Musichetta, who had come to sit with him. 

“Heu Joly.” Joly smiled and waved. “Trans demigirl. She/they.” Enjolras blinked, unsure of what that meant. Was Joly saying that he was a girl?

“Musichetta Ricci.” Musichetta saluted the young girl “She/her.” She wrapped an arm around Joly’s shoulders. “Polyamorous, I’m dating these two.” She gestured to Joly and Bossuet.  

Jehan smiled brightly upon realizing that it was this turn. “Jehan Prouvaire. Genderfluid, they/them.” He adjusted his dress, looking over at Grantaire with a smile. 

“Francois or Leander Grantaire, but call me R.” Grantaire said, leaning back in his chair and lifting his bottle in greeting. “Bigender. He/him is usually fine.” He shrugged, taking a long swig from the bottle. Enjolras found himself staring at the cynic, unable to shake the memory of his dream, of Grantaire taking his hand and dying with him. He tried to ignore the feeling and quickly tore his eyes away from the man before he could catch him staring. 

“Oh! Oh, it’s me.” Marius blushed deeply. “Marius Pontmercy. Trans male, he/him.” He looked remarkably flustered. 

One of the girls chuckled and kissed Marius’ cheek. “Cosette Fauchelevent.” She introduced. “Trans girl. She/her.” So that was Cosette, the girl Marius never shut up about when he was supposed to be paying attention in meetings. Enjolras could see why Marius liked her, she was remarkably beautiful and she had an air of confidence about her without seeming arrogant.  

“Eponine Thenardier.” The familiar girl introduced herself. “Demigirl. She/they.” She smiled and looked at her younger sister. 

“Oh! Azelma Thenardier.” Azelma blushed. “Trans girl. She/her.” She smiled. “I’m mostly Deaf!” She said happily, her hands moving with her words. “I speak fairly well and I’m good at lip reading.” She explained and Courfeyrac offered his hand for her to slap.

Combeferre smiled at the two of them before looking at Enjolras, who was caught off guard. “Oh!” He flushed. “My name is Julian Enjolras.” He said, shifting, not knowing what to say next. “Uh...he/him?” He looked around, wondering if that was the correct thing to say. 

Combeferre smiled and nodded. “Right. We’ll begin the meeting with some opening statements.” He stood up and Enjolras felt his body sag with relief. Now came the hard part. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed! NEver be afraid to leave comments with feedback or predictions or anything else you can think of!

**Author's Note:**

> Comments are a writer's best friend! Leave feedback, predictions, criticism, or anything you wish! The more feedback I get, the more I can improve and provide better entertainment!


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